


Hindsight

by AMGee



Series: To Build A Home [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMGee/pseuds/AMGee
Summary: Despite having his face plastered on the front of multiple magazines every day, Tony Stark’s life is still somewhat private with anything even minorly substantial very rarely, if ever, reaching the public eye.Lara Stark was Tony’s best kept secret.In other words, a collection of ‘firsts’ depicting just how the Stark family came to be.Part 1 of To Build A Home
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Original Female Character(s)
Series: To Build A Home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552315
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. The first meeting

The first time Tony Stark met Lara Gatz was something so coincidental and small that after a few weeks and more than treble that amount of deinks, he had all but forgotten the incident.

Lara Gatz, on the other hand, never forgot - she never forgot how she had felt while perched on the end of his hotel room couch, terrified of so much as making a sound as he spoke on the phone to her social worker in the next room, his voice perfectly audible through the paper thin walls.

The rain was comforting to her, but not that night, not as she ran through the dark streets and skidded around even darker corners into alleyways that she would never dream of entering if she were in the right state of mind. The icy rain stung her skin, the cold soothing and yet burning the open wounds on her bare shoulders, arms and face. She was able to ignore the water on her cheeks, pretend just for a moment that it had originated from above rather than her eyes.

It was barely three in the morning and, had anyone been around to see, they would have been horrified as the girl who looked to be younger than ten raced down the road wearing only a torn grey nightgown and a pair of ragged slippers that threatened to fall apart with every slap against the concrete ground.

Lara ran without direction, and yet she had one direction in mind. Away.

She was forced to finally stop as she turned a corner, stumbling and falling into the path of a man who barely kept his balance, tightly grabbing her bony elbows to hold her up.

“I-I’m so so sorry, Sir!” She exclaimed, beginning to pull away. Her eyes shot around, calculating the best exits if they were needed.

The man had ignored her stuttered words - had taken one look at her pale face, emaciated body and the rags she was wearing - and had taken her back to his hotel room where he had deposited her on the leather couch, turned the heating right up to full power, and gone into the next room to call Child Protective Services.

Lara’s hands shook, though from fear or cold she was unsure, as she picked at the hem of her threadbare pyjamas and listened to the conversation in the next room.

She could hear the unfamiliar man arguing with her social worker, his sentences short and snappy as he strongly protested against her being sent back to her foster carers.

She glanced around the immaculate room, noting that it looked to have been mostly left alone in the time the man had been staying there. There wasn’t much to look at, considering the fact that it was a hotel room, but the one-sided conversation in the other room kept her more than occupied.

When the man came back in, he was surprised to see that the girl was still sitting in the same space she had been left in. Her nightgown was saturated, her hair too, and those abominable slippers on her skeletal feet were fit for the bin - he said that, too, though with a softer tone as he tossed her a slight smile on his way past.

After spending a moment rooting through his bag, he emerged from the room with a black sweater, sweat pants, socks and a soft towel. He gave her both and showed her to the bathroom with the orders to change and throw away her ruined clothes.

Following an onslaught of mixed apologies and thanks, the two sat on the couch and the man quizzed her on what she had been doing out that late at night - he didn’t really need to know, having guessed within moments of seeing her, but just wanted confirmation. He was proven right when she had slowly murmured half-lies and tried to change the subject.

Her name was Lara, he had discovered after a few moments, and she was thirteen (which was older than he had guessed).

His name was Tony, he had told her, and he had refused to give his actual age - only going so far as to say “much older than you, Kid” with a smile that didn’t reach his angry eyes. Anger that, surprisingly, wasn’t directed towards her.

From there, they had moved onto safer topics; favourite colours (red being Tony’s; gold being Lara’s), foods they enjoyed (fast food burgers, macaroni cheese - cheesy not milky) their favourite subjects in school (Tony, surprisingly, preferred French as it was a subject he had needed to study to be good at; Lara liked Maths), and so on until Lara plucked up the courage to narrow her eyes and proclaimed that she knew he was trying to distract her.

She had watched, confused, as Tony had quickly scrawled a note on the back of one of the hotel business cards that had been piled neatly on the coffee table before passing it to her. He had told her that the phone number written in chicken-scratch handwriting belonged to his bodyguard, and had requested that she memorised it to call if she needed help.

Her social worker was there within half an hour, and arrived to see the girl curled up on the couch wearing the man’s huge clothes and watching cartoons on the TV with a shy smile on her lips.

The smile disappeared as she was guided out of the door and into the car parked outside. She looked up as the vehicle began to move, but all curtains in the hotel windows had been pulled shut.


	2. The first time help was asked for

Her social worker had lied.

Within an hour of leaving the warm hotel room, Lara had been pushed back into the dark house and locked into her room once more. She didn’t regret for one moment the long string of curses she had yelled at the woman as she had left the house - she would only wish that she had kept quiet the next day.

It was two years later that Lara saw Tony again. She had semi-obsessively kept up with him through the media, realising who he was a few days after he had tried to help her, and had been so horrified and yet relieved when he had returned from his captivity in Afghanistan a few months previously.

The clothes he had given her had become some of her most prized possessions - despite still being too big, she made a point of wearing them whenever she needed the comfort (a lot).

The phone number on the card had been quickly found and burned, followed by a punishment that left her in agony for weeks. It didn’t erase the fact that she had memorised the sequence of numbers before she had even left the hotel room. It had mostly been a strong mixture of pride and embarrassment kept her from calling the number in the twenty-four months when things got so hard she didn’t believe that she would be able to carry on to the next morning.

Other than that, there was a lot of misplaced anger towards the billionaire who had seemingly sent her back into her own personal hell without checking up on her even once. That had slowly disappeared over time.

Finally, on a freezing October evening, slumped weakly against the damp wall of pitch black alleyway, Lara pulled the cracked mobile from her back pocket with great difficulty and keyed in the memorised number with trembling fingers.

“Hello?”

The girl took in a shaky breath, “He-hello...uh, I was given thi-this number by To-Tony a couple years ago. Told to-to call if I needed help. My name’s Lara, Sir...” she trailed off unsurely, white tendrils of breath escaping her lips as she felt her worsening state.

“Yeah right, I call bull-“

“Please, Sir!” Lara murmured weakly, desperately, “I ran into Tony in the middle of the night two years ago. He let me wait in his hotel room while he call-called my social worker. I swear!”

The man on the other side of the phone frowned deeply as he listened to the girl speaking to him. He looked up at the subject of the conversations. “Hey Tony, you remember some kid called Lara? Says you gave her my number.”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to remember.

He went to shake his head when a hotel room flashed through his mind, a girl tentatively sitting on the edge of the sofa covered in cuts and bruises.

“This number belongs to my bodyguard - call it if you need help.”  
“Yes. I do. Give me the phone!”

The girl let out a gentle whimper as she tried to move into a more comfortable position.

“You okay, Kid?”

The voice was familiar, but it took a moment to place it - Tony.

“No...not really.”

What followed was a flood of questions with barely a pause given to answer them.

Where was she? No idea. Was she safe? Unlikely. Was she hurt? Yes. What had happened? She couldn’t tell.

“Got your location, Lara, were on our way now. Just hold on fifteen minutes.”

The call was ended quickly and Tony’s bodyguard turned to look at him, “who was that?”

Tony didn’t give him an answer, instead opting to get into the drivers side of the car and give him a narrow-eyed look, silently asking whether he was going to get in.

They were there within eleven minutes, and not a moment too late because as Tony sprinted up the narrow path, Happy Hogan following closely behind, he arrived just in time to see the young girl slump to the side, unconscious.


	3. The first time she cried

When Lara woke three weeks later, she felt oddly weightless; perhaps it was because she was missing half of her left leg, or maybe it was that she felt safer and more rested than she ever remembered being.

The conversations that followed were not any that she ever wanted to repeat, with police officers swarming into the hospital room and forcing her to give answers she never wanted to verbalise ever again.

The hospital room was unusual - she hadn’t been in one since she had broken her collar bone last year after ‘falling down the stairs’, but even that time it had been different. She hadn’t been in an actual room last time, the bed had not been this soft, the sounds outside the room were quiet enough to be indecipherable. The atmosphere was different, too.   
Perhaps it was just fatigue speaking, but she felt warmer, safer. 

After that, the fifteen year old was left alone for what seemed like hours, with only her phone to keep her occupied - that didn’t work for long with the already low battery dwindling quickly and eventually leaving her to watch through the glass windows as doctors, nurses and patients passed by, all with their own worries. When she grew bored of watching, she painstakingly pulled herself up into a sitting position, threw the thin cover back and grimaced at the flimsy hospital gown before beginning to observe the horrific stump which was all that was left of her lower leg. Soft white bandages covered the stitches, but the bruised skin couldn’t all be hidden; terrible shades of brown, purple and green.

She had known she was injured when she had heard the resounding cracks of the bones as she landed on the cold concrete ground and felt the agonisingly heavy wheel of the familiar rusty orange truck crush her ankle. She had never screamed so loud; had never felt such pain in both her leg and heart as she watched her foster father drive away. It had hurt infinitely more, dragging herself from the road and as far into the alley as was possible before calling for help.

She had known it was bad, but hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

It was then that, after three weeks of being safe and almost seven hours being awake, she allowed herself to cry. She hadn’t cried in years - not until three weeks ago, at least. Deep gut wrenching sobs tore though her throat, barely stifled by the hand she held over her mouth. Her eyes were closed as tightly as possible in an attempt to hold back tears - it didn’t work.

She didn’t see the door open, didn’t hear the heavy sigh, but she felt as a warm hand was placed gently on her skinny shoulder. It grounded her, allowed her to realise that she was safe.

When she looked up, her face red and tear stained, she saw the man who she hadn’t heard from in over two years.

Without a word, Tony passed her a tissue that seemed to be much softer than the ones she usually used, smiling sadly at her as she dried the tears and blew her nose.

This in itself was unusual - she had never been comforted after crying; had never been so much as handed a tissue. She was used to being ridiculed, punished. Lara decided that she liked this change.

The man stayed with Lara as more police officers entered the room, smoothly interjecting when she signalled that it was getting too much. His hand didn’t stay on her shoulder, being removed and placed on the arm of the decidedly uncomfortable chair the second Lara began to tense up at the physical contact. Despite that, his silent presence encouraged her to answer every question she possibly could, bringing her closer to finally feeling safe.


	4. The first time she allowed herself to feel hope

Perhaps it was fortunate that Pepper was spending time with her parents when Tony made his decision - she most certainly would not have approved of such a split second commitment. Of course, she would follow and support him to the end of the earth, but she would have urged him to take time to reach a more logical conclusion; he couldn’t take time that he didn’t have.

Which was why almost ten days after Lara woke from her ‘prolonged rest’ (as they had dubbed it), Tony broke the news to her.

“I’d like to adopt you.”

“Pardon?” Her voice reached a pitch she hadn’t even realised was possible as her eyes lifted from the scrabble board on her lap.

The billionaire took no small amount of pleasure in witnessing the expression of pure surprise on her face.

He put down his word on the scrabble board that sat on the tray. Echinate.

“That isn’t a word.”

“It so is.” Tony looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

“You’d really do that?” Lara questioned, pulling them back onto the correct subject - the one which was minorly more important than whether Tony’s jumble of letters actually made a valid word.

“Like I said,” Tony explained, “I’ve been thinking about it and I believe that it would be a brilliant idea.”

Lara frowned slightly, thinking, “why? I don’t understand.”

The man gave a slight sigh - not out of anger or frustration, but more as if he was trying to order his thoughts. Lara waited patiently for him to finish, her own mind whirling as she tried to make sense of his sudden comment. Why would he want her?

The feeling was unfamiliar; feeling wanted. She had never been looked at more than once. Being an older child meant that it was unlikely she would be given a home, and before the ‘accident’, she had been expecting to be kicked out in the next few years and expected to make a life for herself.

“Well, when I let you be taken two years ago, I made a mistake. I wasn’t ready at the time to do much more than try and give you a way out if you needed it, but I like to think that I’ve changed since then. I’d like to make it right. I’m not doing this out of some sense of guilt - I really do want to adopt you. If you want that, that is.”

Lara thought for a moment, her brain running through all the pros and cons.

What if he wasn’t as nice as he seemed? He couldn’t be as bad as the Kinneys. And besides, he hadn’t done anything when it had just been the two of them in a hotel room two years ago in the middle of night. Still, people could change.

What if he got sick of her? Then he could throw her back into the system - she frowned slightly; he was Tony Stark, that had to be possible for someone with his wealth and status.

What if this was just for the public? He hadn’t told anyone about her - not two years ago, not now.

She thought that maybe she could give him a chance - after all, he had saved her life - she had no doubt that she would likely have died if he hadn’t come for her.

Finally, after what must’ve been around ten minutes, she slowly nodded and gave a slight smile which was more of a slight twitch of the corners of her lips, “I-I think that I’d like that.”

Tony grinned widely, his dark eyes conveying a wealth of emotions.

“It’s settled, then, I’ll get my legal team on it.”


	5. The first time she went home

It was the day Lara was being released. She had been in that room for a month and a half, including the three weeks she had been unconscious, and was going stir crazy.

Despite being excited for her release, the girl couldn’t help feeling slightly apprehensive about going with Tony. Of course, it wasn’t Tony that she was worried about; they had only grown closer in the past few weeks. Instead, Lara was worried about the house (mansion) itself. She had heard Tony, Pepper - his girlfriend - and Rhodey - his best friend - speak so casually of ‘home’, and the girl couldn’t help but fear that word.

Lara had never known a home. Her parents had left her when she was too young to remember even their faces, let alone the building she spent just over a year in; she had been rotated around orphanages as she grew up, never staying in one place for more than a year (a year and a half was her record); she wouldn’t consider her last place to be anything close to a home.

So, no, the girl didn’t feel comfortable considering somewhere she had never set her solitary foot inside to be home.

She smiled widely as her wheelchair was pushed through the front doors of the building by a man wearing fake blonde hairspray, dark glasses and a low cap, but who still smelled of coffee, paint and the faintest scent of smoke - she guessed the man had set something on fire, again, in one of his more experimental projects. Still, despite the temporary change in looks, he was the same man.

On each side of her wheelchair, Pepper Potts and James “Rhodey” Rhodes walked at a similar speed, the red haired woman glancing down at her every few moments with a gentle smile on her lips and kindness in her eyes. Rhodey’s eyes never seemed to stop moving, scanning the immediate area for even the slightest hint of danger.

Leading the group was Tony’s bodyguard and temporary chauffeur, Harold “Happy” Hogan, who diligently turned back every once in a while to check they were all there. He and Lara got along like a house on fire once all the gratefully uttered ‘thank you’s were over and done with. He was easy to beat at Operation, but provided an unexpected challenge when the group played Scrabble, opting to use unusual, but “still real, Tony” words. The two quickly bonded over a mutual enjoyment of both board games and brooding.

The car ride seemed short in comparison to the embarrassingly long time it took to fold up Lara’s wheelchair and stuff it in the back, and it appeared that only a moment had passed before they were parked outside the huge building and Lara was the only one left in the vehicle.

Tony helped her into the chair without needing to be asked, and finally removed his glasses as he pushed her inside, all the while talking uncontrollably about her new room and what he had had done to it. “...and there’s a window across the back wall with one of the best views possible! You’ll love it!”

Lara laughed later as she sat beside the man who had become such a constant in her life, thinking about how she had been relieved to be in a wheelchair as she was not sure even two legs would have kept her standing when she had been wheeled into her new bedroom and had seen the view.

Tony was right; she did love it.

And despite what she had previously decided, it only took another two months before Lara called it home.


	6. The first time Lara showed she cared

“Hey, Kid, can you pass me the gold paint?!” Tony had to yell to be heard over the heavy metal music that surrounded them. He held out his hand, not looking up as his attention focussed on the piece of metalwork on the station in front of him.

Lara nodded from where she sat perched on a chair located on the other side of the counter, allowed in the room as it was only paint that was being used at the moment. Her leg swung below her, sock covered toes barely grazing the cold floor.

Tony usually didn’t spend this long painting one specific creation, preferring to multitask once he reached the 'artistic' stage, but for this purpose he would happily make an exception.

His hands were steady as he thinly outlined the joints of his creation in a striking shade of gold that shone brightly as the artificial light above bounced off it. The narrow metallic lines contrasted against the matte black paint, drawing attention to the expertly designed details, but subtle enough not to look flashy or obnoxious.

The door to the lab was pushed open as Tony’s red haired girlfriend entered, her heels clicking against the ground. A warm smile was on her painted lips, reflected in her equally gentle eyes. “The pizza’s just been delivered, but neither of you are having any unless you both change into something that won’t cover my sofa in paint.”

Tony grinned and rolled his eyes, placing the paintbrush in his mug of coffee before quietly cursing and setting it on the side to clean at a later time. “Great, I believe that we’re finished with this, now - just got to dry.”

Lara’s smile was wider than either of them had ever seen as Tony hovered while she moved into her wheelchair. Her hands, smudged with black, gold and red paint, left prints on the edge of Tony’s workstation and the wheels on Lara’s chair, but none of them could bring themselves to care as they took the lift upstairs.

Not even ten minutes later, dressed in her favourite pyjamas (an Iron Man set that Tony had jokingly bought for her - she adored them), Lara wheeled herself into the living room and slid expertly onto the couch beside the man she cared for more than anyone else.

Tony smiled kindly at her as he passed her the plate that held her favourite pizza - Hawaiian.

Tony had been less than happy when she had informed him of her preferred toppings. He had made a point of ordering multiple pizzas, each with different (expensive) toppings, in an attempt to change the girl’s mind before finally giving in and ceasing his attempts to change her mind. That didn’t mean he held back any joking comments each time she chose Hawaiian pizza when they had it delivered.

The trio watched a film as they ate, the sixteen year old choosing Home Alone despite it only being October, Tony and Lara laughing at the mischief caused by Kevin McCallister.

“I’m never leaving you here alone, Lara, if that’s what you kids get up to these days.” Tony reached over and tapped her nose gently, a humorous glint in his dark eyes and a smile on his face.

...

It was the next day when Tony woke up, his neck aching at the unnatural angle he was in. Lara was sprawled across the sofa with her head resting on his shoulder and his arm around her shoulder, her feet propped up by the tuffet that had been pushed right up to the couch. A blanket had been gently placed over the two, keeping them at a comfortable temperature, and Tony silently thanked the red haired woman for not waking them up.

He remembered the days long gone when he had fallen asleep on the ground outside his father’s workshop, waiting for a moment of his time, only to be woken hours later when an irritated Howard Stark woke him up with a shout followed by a harsh insult.

When Lara woke up, the first thing she saw was her adoptive father’s warm smile as he told her to get ready, that there was something he wanted to show her.

It was everything she had ever hoped for and more.

Tony had just unknowingly given her the one thing she needed, an opportunity to be just like everyone else. Lara didn’t mention this, instead throwing herself at the man and wrapping her still too-skinny arms around him in the first hug she could ever remember being the one to initiate. The newly finished Stark-created prosthetic leg lay on the sofa beside the two, gold lines shining.

Tony didn’t mention how her eyes shone and her bottom lip trembled, only hugging her tighter.

Lara didn’t mention how Tony cried as she thanked him repeatedly, the words eventually merging into one another until her mumbles were indecipherable, whispered against the sweater he wore.

Lara couldn’t help the solitary tear that traced her cheek later as she stared at the two tiny letters painted just below the edge of the socket, too small to notice if you weren’t looking carefully. LS.


	7. The first time Lara called him Dad

Tony could hear her coming all the way down the hall, flat shoes clicking dangerously against the floor. He sighed as they stopped outside the door for a moment before she entered his room without knocking - he was less than surprised as he saw the anger in her eyes.

“Were you going to tell me?” At seventeen, the girl had definitely been taking intimidation lessons from his fiancée; their glare was frighteningly similar, and the way they both stood directly beside him so he had to look up was identical. In just over a year, the girl had come on in leaps and bounds.

Taking his silence as confirmation, the girl’s eyes narrowed, “do you know how completely and utterly terrified I’ve been? Watching from Happy‘s home as you destroy yourself? Is that why you sent me away, Tony?”

The man shook his head tiredly, letting out a breath, “no. Well, partially. A woman was sent to watch me, one who worked for a spy organisation my Aunt Peggy founded. I believed that you would be in danger if it was discovered that you are important to me. I still do.”

Lara rolled her eyes, showing that she had been learning from her father figure too. At that moment she didn’t give a damn about her own safety - not when she had spent so long watching her father slowly get weaker and weaker. Not when she had watched how quickly he had changed.

She wouldn’t let something like this pass again.

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

She gestured to his chest, to the blue light emanating from it, “why didn’t you ask for help?”

Tony deflated, “I didn’t want anyone to worry.”

That didn’t seem to help the situation, judging by the way the girl glowered at him. “And you didn’t think we’d worry when you suddenly decided to push us all away? You don’t honestly think we didn’t notice you’d changed? Or was that the point?”

The angry words seemed to exhaust her as she let out a breath and shook her head, trying to push away the memory of the black veins extending from the arc reactor. “You had better never so much as think of doing something like that ever again!”

When the girl’s face crumpled slightly, Tony held out his arm and gestured to her, trying and failing not to feel a twinge of pain as her eyes watered, glistening in the light.

Taking a hint, Lara slumped onto the bed beside the man, resting her head on his unbandaged shoulder, and finally letting out the tears that she had been holding back for hours.

Tony didn’t mind as the tears made his skin cold, didn’t mind how the foot of her prosthetic leg dug into his calf, didn’t mention how his chest hurt as he moved to the side to give her space.

What he did mind was that this girl - his girl - was crying, and it was because of him. He had promised himself the first time he had seen her that he wouldn’t let her come to any harm - that hadn’t worked, but he was making up for it slowly. It was worse when he knew that she had come to harm, perhaps it wasn’t physical this time, but she was still hurt and it had been him that had caused it.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Dad.”

She felt as the man stiffened, and felt her lungs constrict, only to feel her ability to breathe come back as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

“Love you, Kid.”


	8. The first time Lara came out

Lara had learned a lot in the two years since she had been adopted by Tony Stark, her father.

Despite the front he put up in public, once behind closed doors, Tony was one of the - if not the - most loving, caring, open people Lara had ever known. She was no stranger to spontaneous hugs, kisses on the forehead, ‘I love you’s and everything else that came with having an actual family.

Still, that didn’t mean the eighteen year old wasn’t nervous as she entered the lab. Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her (father’s) sweater in an attempt to conceal the shaking, her face a few shades paper than usual, her shoulders raised protectively.

Tony barely looked up from the repairs on his suit, giving her a smile before looking back down at the chest plate where he was replacing a plate that had been irreplaceable damaged in his last fight.

“Um Dad. Do-do you think we could talk?”

Sensing the nervousness in her voice, the man looked up and noticed the state she was in. He reacted instantly, dropping his tools to the table, shutting off the booming music and pulling a chair out for her to sit on, his face curious but patient.

Taking the seat, Lara paused for a few moments in an attempt to gather her thoughts.

Tony allowed her to stay in silence for a while, his mind whirring without pause at all the things she could want to talk to him about.

Had he done something to hurt or upset her? He couldn’t think of anything, but he was oblivious sometimes.

Had someone else hurt her? He knew the Stark Industries staff didn’t know about their true connection, believed she was a personal Intern, but maybe they didn’t like the slight amount of extra attention he gave her. This was something he may be able to help with - he could easily suspend or terminate his staff, but would that really solve any problems?

Was it something else? She hadn’t spoken about college recently - were the teachers unappreciative of her talents? As her father, it was his duty to stand up for her.

“I d-don’t really know what to say, Dad...I’m struggling a bit, here.” Lara laughed weakly, the fingers of her left hand tapping against her knee.

Tony nodded, a sympathetic smile on his lips, “alright, is it anything I can help with?”

“No. Yes?” Lara sighed faintly, “I guess...it’s not something you can shoot at, but maybe you could help. I don’t know...”

Taking a deep breath, Lara looked down at her lap, at her fingers twisting the material of her sweater, “I like someone. Like, I like like them. As in-“

Tony cut her off as she seemed ready to continue with her spiel, “I think I get it, Kid...now why are you upset about it?”

Lara looked up at him through her eyelashes and Tony thought he hadn’t seen her look so vulnerable in so long, “be-because she’s a she!”

Tony looked at her for a minute straight before blinking, “okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, Lara,” Tony smiled slightly, placing a warm hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently, “I mean, I’m not too happy about you liking anyone, but I don’t care about whether they’re male, female, or even a robot (see, JARVIS! I’m being inclusive!). As long as you’re happy, so am I. Besides, did you think I was gonna kick you out? You do know about my time at MIT, don’t you? If not, Rhodey would be more than happy to share.”

When a gentle sob escaped her lips, Tony rose from his own stool and took a step towards her, engulfing her in a tight hug and placing his chin on top of her head as she cried.

“Love you, Kid. Nothing’s gonna change that. Ever.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

“Now,” Tony started, carefully extracting himself and sitting back in his seat, “tell me about her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think that’s the end of this. I hope that you enjoyed it!
> 
> I’m planning on making this into a longer, more developed story, but wanted to get used to the characters interactions first. I’m hoping to rewrite this in a lot more detail as a full story, feather than a group of kind-of one shots.
> 
> Again, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Thank you :o)


End file.
